The tree, the angel and DiNozzo
by Emrys1411
Summary: Leroy Jethro Gibbs was pretty sure that he had never met anyone as ridiculously accident-prone as Anthony DiNozzo Junior. A little christmas two-shot, set pre-series. Hurt!Tony. Fluff! No slash.
1. Chapter 1

The tree, the angel and DiNozzo

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A/N: Set pre-series, just a little Christmas two-shot not to be taken too seriously. I will update as soon as I can.

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Leroy Jethro Gibbs was pretty sure that he had never met anyone as ridiculously accident-prone as Anthony DiNozzo, Junior. Within a few weeks of working with the young Italian, Gibbs had become accustomed to the yelps of pain across the bullpen, the stapled fingers, the concussions, the split lips. It wasn't that DiNozzo was clumsy, _per se_; he simply had impeccably bad timing. If fortune had decided that someone was going to fall down the stairs in front of the director on a Tuesday afternoon, DiNozzo would just happen to be the one stood casually at the top of the steps. If fortune felt like watching an NCIS agent be scolded by their own coffee, DiNozzo would be the one craving caffeine.

So yes, Gibbs was used it.

The former marine had never enjoyed Christmas – at least, since _it_ happened – so usually stalked through the entire festive period with a permanent scowl etched upon his features. But this year, after much persuasion from Abby, and puppy-dog eyes from DiNozzo (who wielded extraordinary power when he put on that expression), Gibbs decided that he could grin and bear Christmas just this once.

Tony seemed happy, which surprised Gibbs considering the miserable Christmases he must have had as a child with an absentee, neglectful father and a troubled, alcoholic mother.

For whatever reason – reasons Gibbs didn't feel like dwelling on – it felt _right_ to see Tony smile like a little boy when Gibbs shoved a dusty box of decorations in his arms and instructed him to 'decorate the damn tree before I change my mind'.

With Abby, DiNozzo had acquired a rather large, emerald green tree and had resurrected it in the bullpen. The two were laughing, _giggling_, as they strung tinsel and baubles and lights across the poor plant and Gibbs was content to sit at his desk and watch quietly.

Abby was obviously glad to have someone who shared her festive mood, because Blackadder had declared Christmas to be childish pursuit.

This didn't stop DiNozzo, of course, who often acted like a pre-adolescent.

Vivian also said it was simply a time of greed and over-indulgence.

Again, DiNozzo ate enough for a small tribe, so wasn't disheartened.

Gibbs still wondered where all those calories went because they certainly didn't materialise on Tony's body.

"Gibbs!"

Abby shrill cry had Gibbs blinking out of his daze to look upon his favourite Goth.

"What, Abby?"

"Angel or star?" She held up a fluffy angel with jewelled wings and broken halo first, and then pulled a glittered, golden star out from behind her back. "I personally think the star – "

"No, the angel, Abby, the angel." Tony mumbled around the candy cane in his mouth, which was promptly sticking his teeth together.

Gibbs distinctly remembered Kelly being completely absorbed by the angel on top of the tree as a baby. She'd stare up at the ornament, gold and vibrant and sparkling, and just _look_, almost as if she expected it to flap its wings and fly away.

Gibbs cleared his throat and leant forward, studying the two younger members of his team carefully.

Abby look...interesting, to say the least. She had decorated herself in black tinsel, with black bauble earrings and tattoo of Santa on the back of her hand.

Tony looked tired; this was surprising because he was acting like a two-year old on red bull. His dark hair was curled at the tips, lacking its usual gel, and his face was somewhat pale. Not sickly pale – again, he just looked tired.

Maybe Gibbs had been working him too hard.

"The angel," Gibbs said, curtly.

"Yes!" DiNozzo grinned gleefully, smugly.

"Gibbs!" Abby feigned outrage, before passing the angel over to Tony, who had dragged up a chair.

And that's when Gibbs' gut told him not to let DiNozzo climb that chair, or let Abby dance to Brenda Lee, while he sat back and watched an unfolding disaster.

Impending doom.

DiNozzo climbed up onto the chair, candy cane in his teeth, angel in one hand, the other arm flailing wildly for balance.

Gibbs was on the verge of standing up.

Abby twirled, like a ballerina.

DiNozzo reached up, smiling, returning the angel to its rightful place.

Abby spun again, and then tripped over the decoration box, falling into tree.

The tree tilted ominously, Tony's eyes widened and he instinctively stepped backwards.

The tree fell down, knocking DiNozzo off his perch and into flight.

Gibbs winced, teeth grinding, at the sound of the Italian's head smacking against Blackadder's desk.

Bone on wood.

"Tony!" Abby had leapt over the tree at this point as Gibbs rounded the corner, his heart dropping at the sight of DiNozzo splayed across the floor, thick, cherry red blood in his hair, trailing down his face from a four inch gash above his left eyebrow.

"Damn it, Abby, what were you doing?" Gibbs knew it wasn't Abby's fault, but the way DiNozzo rolled his head, eyes scrunched tightly shut, fingers clawing at the carpet, had the marine lashing out at anyone in the immediate vicinity. "Why can't you be more careful?!"

"Gibbs, I…" Abby's words died in her throat and she bit down on her lip.

"wasn't... fault, Gibbs…" Tony mumbled, his words slurred, barely comprehensible, "my…head 'urts.."

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" The words, to a stranger, would appear callous. But DiNozzo could hear the softly uttered note of concern, the worry, in the older man's tone and the Italian basked in it (despite the throbbing pain in his head and spinning room),"We gotta get him to Ducky, Abs. Get the elevator."

Abby did as instructed, her hand lingering on Tony's arm for a moment.

Gibbs gently wrapped one arm around DiNozzo's waist and slowly hoisted him up into a sitting position, heart clenching in worry as Tony slumped against his chest, chocking back the nausea which had risen at the movement.

"Come on, up you get." Gibbs coaxed, brushing the hair away from the younger agent's forehead and away from the wound.

Tony groaned, clutching onto the former marine's jacket as he was dragged wobbly to his feet.

He then stumbled, swayed, his head spinning, the sound of the clock, of Gibbs' voice, of the traffic outside, blurring into one blast of noise.

"Boss, I'm gonna…"

"Don't you throw up on me, DiNozzo."

Tony wasn't sure he possessed enough self-control at that moment to prevent such an occurrence.

He barely felt his feet touch the floor as Gibbs half-carried him to the elevator. He felt like he was flying, spiralling like an autumn leaf caught in a breeze.

Before he knew it, Gibbs had settled him down against the elevator wall, one arm wrapped around DiNozzo's back, the one holding a handkerchief to his bleeding head.

"Boss?"

"What, DiNozzo?"

"I've changed my mind…" Tony swallowed deeply, his eyes remaining firmly shut.

"About what?"

"I hate Christmas."


	2. Chapter 2

The tree, the angel and DiNozzo

**A/N**: I hope this final chapter isn't a disappointment, but I find it hard it really difficult to write Gibbs!

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DiNozzo vaguely recalled being hauled from the elevator and dragged rather ungracefully into autopsy, his limbs refusing to respond.

"Ducky! Ducky!" Abby didn't appear to realise that screaming out the doctors name wasn't helping Tony's head at all; in fact, the room did an extra somersault in protest.

"Yes, my dear?" The Scotsman came immediately out of his office and stopped, his expression morphing into one of confusion, but he asked no questions, "put him up here, Jethro."

Tony wanted to insist that he could climb up onto the table himself – he wasn't a child – but that would have just led to further embarrassment. He was somewhat grateful when Gibbs lifted him up onto the table as if he were a damsel in distress and as light as a feather.

DiNozzo keened in pain at the bright overhead lights.

"He fell off a chair and smacked his head on a desk, Duck." Gibbs said, stepping away as Ducky took Tony's face in his hands and began to examine the head wound.

"And the Christmas tree fell on him," Abby added, pointlessly.

Ducky frowned at that, but said nothing.

"My dear boy, that's a nasty laceration. There is no doubt that you're going to need stitches – "

"He got concussion, Duck?" Gibbs asked, hastily, frowning at the way DiNozzo's head lolled in Ducky's hands, as if it wasn't attached to the kid's shoulders anymore.

"Again, there's no doubt about that." Dr Mallard replied quietly, "Anthony, do you know where you are?"

Tony groaned and tried to pull away, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.

"Anthony, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Ducky held up four as he, Gibbs and Abby gazed expectantly at the Italian.

They received no reply.

Ducky sighed and took out his pen light, before shining it directly into DiNozzo's eyes. But before he did that, he beckoned for Gibbs to come around the back and hold Tony still.

Anthony DiNozzo was a very uncooperative patient.

"Goddamit!" Tony cried, fiercely attempting to pull away as the burning light of the pen appeared to scorch his eyeballs and sear his brain, "stop it!"

Gibbs tightened his grip on the Italian's shoulders, "DiNozzo! Let Ducky do his job."

Tony blinked slowly and settled again.

Ducky studied the younger agent's pupil reactions carefully.

"Pupils are little slow to respond to light…ask him some questions, Jethro."

Ducky continued with his checks, of which there were many.

"DiNozzo, what did you have for breakfast this morning?"

Tony frowned – at that point, all he wanted was some painkillers and a pillow. He'd have slept on the floor if he had to. Screw Christmas.

"Uh..." Tony grimaced in concentration, attempting to rewind back through his day to the morning. Instead, he found himself dropping forward, the only thing preventing him from face planting the floor was his boss.

"Come on, DiNozzo, you better answer unless you want to be sent to the hospital – "

"I think that would be for the best, Jethro." Ducky stepped backwards and bustled around the autopsy looking for some gauze to stem the bleeding.

"But he didn't lose consciousness, Ducky." Abby spoke up for the first time, aware of the intense fear Tony seemed to have of hospitals.

"No, but he evidently confused and is having trouble staying awake, alongside other worrying neurological symptoms."

Gibbs gave DiNozzo a gentle shake for good measure and the kid perked up slightly.

"Duck, he hates hospitals." Gibbs whispered, perhaps hoping that DiNozzo wouldn't overhear their conversation. Thankfully, Tony appeared to have been distracted by the sound of the clock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

"What did you say, DiNozzo?"

"What?"

"You said something."

The Italian sighed and let his head fall back onto Gibbs' shoulder, his face pressed into the older man's neck, all inhibitions lowered apparently.

"Anthony, what were you doing before you hurt your head?" Ducky asked as he prepared the makeshift gauze.

"Decorating…that tree." Tony mumbled quietly, "Gibbs chose the angel."

Abby smiled at that.

"Do you think he needs a CT scan, Ducky?"

"I won't send him to the hospital, Jethro, provided you take him back to your house and keep an eye on him."

"It goes without saying, Duck." The marine smirked at the younger agent in his arms.

"Then we can stitch up his head here." Ducky smiled grimly and disappeared again.

It took DiNozzo a few seconds before he raised his head, glanced at Gibbs and then at Abby, before a look of pure dread took over his face.

"Wait…who is stitching what?"

After half an hour of listening to Tony complain as Ducky stitched up his head wound – it was peculiar that when DiNozzo was really hurt, he remained silent, but when he had just a minor injury, he milked it for all it was worth – he was buckled into Gibbs' car.

Tony had silently let the former marine manhandle him into the vehicle and buckle his seatbelt for him, which both amused and worried Jethro.

"You. Stay. There." Gibbs jabbed a finger in Tony's chest, who nodded begrudgingly, before closing the car door and jogging lightly across the car park towards Ducky, who beckoned with his hand.

"Jethro, you know what to do – "

"Yes, Duck. Wake him every few hours, ask the usual questions, and watch out for any other symptoms that could indicate serious brain injury – I've had enough concussions myself remember." Gibbs said, with a hint of impatience.

"Yes, well, I had rather hoped young Anthony wouldn't be quite so reckless." The older Scotsman smiled gently, patted his friend on the arm, before heading inside, "make sure you call me in a few hours, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded and returned to the car.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

It amazed Gibbs how childish a concussed DiNozzo could actually be. The young agent was stubbornly refusing to go to bed.

Kelly used to do that.

"I'm not tired, Gibbs. I swear."

"I couldn't give a damn if you're tired, DiNozzo! You split your head open like a damn melon two hours ago, so you're going to bed!"

"'bit of an exaggeration, boss…" Tony murmured, rubbing at his forehead with a wince.

Tony was sat on the couch, one leg on the coffee table, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"Gibbs, I feel sick. And tired – "

"So you are tired?" Gibbs smirked.

"What? No, I just want to stay here." DiNozzo clenched his jaw in frustration and let himself drop gracelessly back onto the pillows, pulling his knees up to his chest to mimic the foetal position.

Gibbs was plagued with an unwelcome surge of paternal affection at the sight. The former marine heaved a sigh, before fetching a blanket and dropping it over the still form on his couch. He managed to resist tucking his agent in and ruffling his hair (he did have a reputation to maintain after all.)

Jethro sat down on the coffee table and leaned forward, closely studying the Italian who gazed in awe at the thick woollen blanket.

"Still hate Christmas, DiNozzo?"

"I've always hated it, boss." The kid whispered pathetically, sounding more defeated than Gibbs had ever heard him, "My dad was never there and if he was, it was to argue with my mother…she just used the holiday as an excuse to drink more. Not that she needed one. She'd do it anyway."

Gibbs was thankful that Tony was coherent now, even if the conversation had taken on a very morose tone very quickly. Gibbs also found himself seething in anger at the hurt, the _pain_, laced in his agents tone.

Every child deserved a happy Christmas.

"She drink a lot?"

"Binge drinking was her thing – she could have a few sober days and then she'd be off her face by seven thirty on some random morning. I know she had a problem, Gibbs…"DiNozzo trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose, "but she could never admit it. Admit what she did to me. Maybe she didn't care, or maybe she just cared about the alcohol more."

Unable to respond to that, Gibbs gave the kid a swift pat on leg. The older agent found it difficult to be openly affectionate, except with Abby, but it was getting increasingly more inadequate to just pat Tony on the back and tell him to 'cowboy up'.

That just wasn't enough for someone so broken.

It was then that DiNozzo shifted his position and turned to look at his boss, eyebrows knotted together in something akin to curiosity.

"But why do you hate Christmas, Gibbs?"

Gibbs hated Christmas because Shannon and Kelly were dead.

There was nothing more to it.

But he wasn't going to tell Tony that. The only one who knew was Ducky, and he'd known the doctor for years.

"I just don't. Not a very festive guy, DiNozzo." Gibbs tried to brush off the question with nonchalance, but Tony, being an astute detective, saw through it.

"If you say so, Boss." Tony yawned widely, reaching out clumsily with one hand to pat Jethro on the knee, "that's okay."

Gibbs snorted in amusement, one eyebrow raised as he watched DiNozzo lose his battle with consciousness and drift slowly off into sleep.

Before he went, Gibbs had to ask another question.

"Are you still up for Christmas this year, DiNozzo?"

Tony blinked blearily, half his face buried in the pillow.

"Why?"

"Answer the question."

"'dunno. Could be."

"Right," Gibbs grinned and stood up, his knee joints creaking, "then be here at 9 AM sharp on Saturday."

"Saturday…what's happening on Saturday?"

"It's Christmas day, DiNozzo!" Gibbs exclaimed in exasperation, without any vehemence.

"Oh…" Tony frowned again, eyes squinted in intense concentration, before a sudden spark of realisation took over his face, "oh!"

"Yeah, 'oh'. You bring the potatoes. I'll take care of the turkey."

DiNozzo smiled lazily, gleefully, at the older man, drawing the blanket up higher, "Gibbs?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, kid. Just go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know you will, Gibbs… I know."


End file.
